A Time for Wolves
by prettylittlepetticoats
Summary: He is the song of ice and fire, the greatest story ever told, the prince that was promised, and the rightful heir to the throne. He is the king, from this day until his last day /ONESHOT


authorsnote: I want to make it clear before I start; jons ending in the show, I did not like the plot holes, how rushed it was, or how the journey played out, but jons ending did feel right to me. he was king beyond the wall, and it was what he wanted, not the throne. however, in many ways it also felt wrong, hence the piece you're about to read.

I hope you enjoy it, and please read the closing note for some final thoughts. please enjoy, and let me know in reviews if you do.

song recommendations: jon snows theme - game of thrones

* * *

_'do your duty, and leave the rest to the gods' _

_..._

"So choose"

Silence fell across the Dragon Pit then, as the most powerful Lords and Ladies of Westeros only glanced at one another with not a word passed between them for minutes. The idea of choosing their ruler, deciding who would be King or Queen … it was strange, it was wrong almost; this was not their way. They followed the rules of succession, even King Robert had been forced to prove a distant connection to the Targaryens through his Grandmother to be seen as right for the Throne. This was not the Westerosi way.

Everyone seemed to be thinking the same thing, as no one spoke. Her Uncle seemed to shift in his seat, as though to stand, though he quickly cleared his throat, and pretended to simply be adjusting as she shot him a look that practically ordered him to stay in his seat. Everyone looked uncomfortable, and she could see a lack of patience written across Greyworms face. Even Tyrion, the cleverest of them all seemed at loss for words, though she could practically see the cogs in his brain turning with each second that passed.

Sansa felt they all knew who should be their King, they all knew but none wanted to say with Greyworm demanding justice in front of them, with an army of 3,000 Unsullied residing just beyond the Dragon Pit walls, and 2,000 Dothraki just beyond them. None wanted to start a war that seemed almost too close for comfort. None wanted to be the trigger to start another fight, another war to add to Westeros' bloody history. They had all been through enough, bled enough, hurt enough, they all wanted peace, and Sansa could only see peace going forward in one way.

Sansa knew the answer, she knew what was right, and she felt the men and women surrounding her did too, and so with a small clearing of her throat she stood to her feet, and even saw Tyrion nod at her; yes, he knew too, and that reassured her as she began.

"Jon" She said simply, she wouldn't make speeches or promises, she wouldn't try to win people over, not yet, not without first simply planting the suggestion, "Jon is our King"

"He killed the Queen" Greyworm interjected immediately, anger coloring his voice. He even stepped forward to her, hand on his dagger, to which Arya shot to her feet, and stepped a beat closer to her sister, as did Brienne, both ready to protect her, their presence seemed to pause Greyworm for a moment, though he still glared at her with a venom. "He cannot be King"

She shushed them down however, shook her head at her protectors. They needed peace, not more war, no more war. Of course if need be she would go to war for Jon, if she was forced. When she'd heard he was imprisoned, when she'd heard he was rotting in a cell for doing the right thing, for stopping a tyrant from continuing her madness, she'd called the banners immediately, and even her weary men had jumped up to follow her. She'd marched down the Kings Road with 5,000 Northmen, joining with 5,000 combined from the Vale and the Riverlands too. It was double the Unsullied and Dothraki but she knew it wouldn't be an easy fight, but she'd fight it, she'd fight it for her King if she had to.

And she knew his men would too.

"Yes he can" She said simply, no anger in her voice, no pleading, just a reasonable tone as she looked around at the Lords of Westeros, before looking back at the Leader of the Unsullied. She sympathized with him she did, she knew he was hurting, she could see the pain clear as day across his face, could see how broken he was, how unsure and how hurt. And yet she could not let his upset and anger dictate the laws of Westeros, dictate what happened, she could not, she _would_ not. It would not be right, and it wasn't just about winning over the Lords and Ladies, but the small folk too. None would accept a rule implemented by a foreigner.

"Jon is our King, by the rights of succession and the rights of the conqueror" She said, holding a hand up as the Commander went to interject again, thankfully this time he stopped, and she continued in stride. "That is how we do things here. Jon is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, and he technically defeated the last Queen" She chose her words delicately then, she knew one false word and these talks would fall apart, something neither party could afford. "By every Westerosi law, he is our King"

"Aye he is, by law" Yoren Royce spoke for her then, and she couldn't help but shoot him a smile; 1 down, 11 to go.

"He is a murderer" Greyworm spat back, and Sansa forced herself not to scream back at him, thankfully her years of courtesies, of suppressing the words she truly wanted to speak came in handy. Thankfully she was able to only nod, which seemed to almost calm Greyworm, that she was at acknowledging it if nothing else.

"Name me one King who isn't" She shot back however, unable to keep her mouth shut completely, and Greyworm only glared at her; he knew she was right.

"I pledged to Daenerys Targaryen" Yara spoke up then, "For independence, not to Jon Snow, to be subjugated once more"

"Bah" It was the new Prince of Dorne who spoke then, Nymos of House Yronwood, shooting a glare at the kraken, "Dorne was the last to join the seven kingdoms under the original Targaryen rule, it is we who should clamor for independence" He glanced around then, "But, Jon Targaryen" He emphasized the last word with importance, "Was born on the sands of Dorne, he is almost one of us, and so we will accept him, and besides, we want no war, no more blood shall be spilled in Dorne whilst I rule"

"That doesn't mean we have to kneel" Yara began, "Besides, his head should roll for killing our Queen"

"Threaten my brother again and I'll slit your throat" Arya shot back at Yara, who seemed to almost speak before falling quiet to her little sister, her reputation was one of legend now, on a level with Jons even, who even before the details of his heritage had been made public was known across the seven kingdoms. Even the brash ironborn ruler wasn't stupid enough to test her threat.

"Please" Sansa spoke then, to get things back to their discussion. She could feel every line of tension in these talks, she would not let them unravel. "Jon … he is many things, but importantly he is a good ruler, just, fair, kind. He was Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, he was King in the North, he has experience, he has respect, he rallied everyone to fight against the Long Night. He is a legendary warrior with a legendary blade and a Direwolf at his side, the people will love him" Another pause, "But for all of you? For my Lords and Ladies? Jon has a connection with every Kingdom, no matter how small"

"He is of the North, but of the Crownlands too. He was born on the sands of Dorne, fought alongside men of the Vale. He grew up with children half Tully. He fought with men from every Kingdom at the Wall. The people know him, the people will love him" She repeated herself then, before turning to Greyworm, "You may not like it, but the people will see him as a hero for stopping your Queen, they will love him for it. I'm sorry but it is true, we need love and peace to unite us. Not more bloodshed."

Again he stepped forward, and again she had to stop Arya jumping to her defense, before she spoke once more, just once more, her last card to play. She knew she'd convinced the Lords and Ladies, as they had turned from looking at her to look at the Leader of the Unsullied. She just had the broken man of war to convince.

"And importantly this is the justice you seek" She ignored Greyworms scoff, and shook her head, "It is. Jon never wanted to be King, nor does he want to now, this will be his penance. Serving, when he has no wish to serve" That was her piece, that was her argument, and so she sat herself back down, she had done all she could.

"She is right" Bran spoke then, "He made mistakes, he made bad choices. Now for the rest of his life he will make up for those" He said with a nod.

It was Tyrion who stepped forward then, his wrists in chains, his eyes wide with sorrow. She knew it had been he and Jon who had spoken to stop Daenerys, and she loved them both for it, but she could see he had no love for what he had done. He was hurting, just as Greyworm was, but he seemed to put that aside for a moment.

"If I may" Her once husband spoke.

"We've heard enough from you" Greyworm spoke harshly, and yet Tyrion only nodded.

"You're right" The dwarf said, with another nod, but he continued all the same, "But so is Sansa" He shrugged almost then, "Jon is the rightful King, and the people will accept him far better than any else. Already most people know of his heritage thanks to Varys, and already people see him as their next King. Sansa is right that people will call him a hero, they already do. And she is also right that he never wanted this, that he won't enjoy being King, it will be duty, but nothing more for him. It will be a punishment, to rule over the people, to spend the rest of his life leading, when he has never wanted to do so"

Tyrion paused for a moment, "Jon of Houses Targaryen and Stark, The Shield that Guards the Realms of Men, I say aye" He nodded then before falling back a step as he waited. They all paused for a moment, and then Sansa was the first to speak.

"Aye" Sansa said with a nod, casting the stone for Jon, her Jon. The Jon that had rescued her from all the hurt and pain she had carried for so long, both by standing by her side, and giving her the strength to rescue herself. He would always be her King.

"Aye" Arya followed of course, smiling a little now, casting the stone for the man who would always be her brother in name and love, if not in blood.

"Aye" Sam then, for his brother too, for the man he'd always believed in. Sam had been the first to plant the idea of Jon as King, back in the crypts of Winterfell, and he had been right in the end.

"Aye" Her Uncle then, for the bastard his sister had hated, who had never been a bastard at all. Edmure had been found still cowering in the dungeons of the Twins as they had marched South, his word was to follow Sansas judgement, that was clear.

"Aye" Gendry followed with a smile. In hindsight, his Father had not been the best of friends with Jon's, but Gendry still considered Jon a friend, and he would never argue with Arya, whom he had been staring at for most of the meeting.

"Aye" Yohn Royce was next, with a nod to Sansa, one of respect, for he knew she had made the right choice.

"Aye" Robin Arryn followed his mentor without hesitation, Yohn Royce was acting Regent of the Vale now, and was counselling his Lord well.

"Aye" The new Prince of Dorne was next, the Lord of House Yronwood, he had made his thoughts clear.

"Aye" Yara Greyjoy was next, with a grimace but an acceptance, with a glance at Arya. Yara knew hoping for independence without Daenerys had been a long shot.

"I don't know if I get a vote, but Aye" Davos said with a nod, supporting the man who had been his King since Stannis has fallen.

"Aye" It was Bran who cast the final vote, and Bran who all would listen to, even Greyworm, who seemed to deflate as they all cast for Jon, especially as Bran threw the final stone. For a moment he looked ready to argue, but he had given them leave to pick a new ruler, and so they had. Sansa stood to her feet once again, she could see Greyworm was ready to give in, but she felt the need for one last word; for peace.

"Go to Essos Greyworm" Sansa's voice was gentle then, kind, "I know you're hurting, I know that" A pause as she picked her words carefully, "But as someone who has been in your position, going home will heal you better than all else. _Go_ _home_, take the Unsullied and the Dothraki with you, and let us, let the people of Westeros get on in peace. No more war, no more, not after all we've been through. Both the people of Westeros and your people, we need peace"

"What of Tyrion?" Greyworm said, hesitating, "Will he escape justice too?"

"No" Bran spoke again then, "He will be Jon's hand"

"No" Tyrion said then with a shake of his head, "I am not the man for it. I thought I was clever, I thought I could do it, but .. but I can't, I can't" He shook his head again, even more violently this time, "Anyone else would be right, anyone but me"

"You are the same as Jon in this kind" Bran said, his tone as wise as ever, "You've made mistakes, and you'll spend the rest of your life making up for them, you both will"

Greyworm paused himself for a moment, but could only nod, the slightest incline of his head, he didn't want war either, not with the people of Westeros. He didn't speak a word as he turned to leave, only pausing to unshackle Tyrion, to throw his chains to the side before he turned away, ushering the Unsullied guards with him. Silence fell as he strode out, and she could hear the march as the Unsullied made their way out, could hear their footsteps. They were leaving, and Sansa finally let out an exhale of relief.

It had worked, it had actually worked. Jon would be their King, as he should be, as she had fought for him to be.

"He is our King" Sansa spoke the final word with a nod, "From this day, until his last day" The men around her shot to their feet as well, and nodded in respect to her, in agreement. Sansa turned to Tyrion then, "Go and tell Jon, bring us our King"

* * *

His hair had grown out again and hung around his head in shaggy curls. His beard was untrimmed, and he hadn't slept for more than three hours a night in weeks. Dark circles hung underneath his eyes, and a plate of food was left untouched in the corner of the room. He'd only roused himself to bathe with a bucket of water once a day and pace backward and forward.

He knew what he had done was right, it had felt so wrong, and part of him still felt it was wrong, but deep down he _knew_. He had known when he had seen Greyworm throw the first spear at the surrendered soldiers. He had known when he saw dragon fire blast over head. He had known when he had seen countless children screaming in the streets, when women had been raped by the Dothraki who laughed as they pushed them into the dirt. He had known when he saw men cowering in the corners, pleading and surrendering but were met with the sword all the same. He had known when he had walked through those streets after the massacre, to see the piles of ash, the burnt bodies of children younger than Rickon had been when he had met his end. He had known when he'd heard Danys rousing speech; he hadn't understood it, but he had seen the reactions of the crowd, heard it spoken through the crowd in the common tongue after she had left. He had known it with the look Arya gave him, with the speech Tyrion threw at him. He had known it when he had climbed into the throne room, when he had heard her words, seen the look in her eyes. He had known it.

He had known what had to be done, and he had done it.

He had plunged the dagger into the heart of the woman he loved … well the woman who had taken the place of the woman he loved. The woman he had kissed in the snows of winter, the woman he had held close as the boat raced towards Winterfell, the woman he had bent the knee too, so sure she would be good, so sure she would be just and fair. That woman had been gone long before he had stabbed her.

It still felt wrong, though he knew it had, had to be done. Her words, her talk of liberating the world, through fire and blood. The words of her family, of his family. He had hated the moment he had forced that dagger into her heart, the moment he had felt the life drain from her, watched the lights leave her eyes. For weeks that was all he could think of, of the last look of horror she had given him, not even able to speak a word before she fell limp in his arms. That was all he could think on.

It had needed to be done, but that didn't make him feel any better about it.

He heard the door go then, and he didn't even glance up, not until he saw Tyrion come into view, evidently he had left his captivity. He was dressed sharply, a new Hand of the King pin fixed proudly to his tunic. Jon wasn't surprised he'd come out of his imprisonment unscathed and back on top, he was too smart to go down for what he had done. Jon nodded at him as Tyrion stood over him. So a new King or Queen had been chosen clearly, and Jon knew such a person would decide his fate.

"We have chosen a new King" Tyrion said with a nod, "A new system, the Lords and Ladies chose, in a fashion I suppose" Jon looked back up at that, and Tyrion held a hand up gently, to stall any questions.

"I had gathered" Jon said still, "Will they decide my fate?"

Tyrion almost smiled then, "In a way" Before shaking his head, moving Jon over so he could take a seat next to him, "Your fate has already been decided"

Many things had shocked Jon in his time, so many things he was sure he'd become immune to most surprises. And yet as he watched Tyrion stand back up, only to sink to his knee in front of him, to bow his head, he knew his face was one of utter surprise.

"Your Grace" Tyrion said simply, and Jon lurched to his feet, shook his head furiously.

"No" He said again, "I don't want it, you know that, I never have and never will. I won't"

"That was the decision made" Tyrion said simply, rising back to his feet, dusting off his clothes as he did so. His smile was almost sympathetic as he looked up at him, and Jon shook his head again, but Tyrion continued. "You are the rightful King, by the laws of succession and the laws of victory" Jon shook his head again, his eyes misting over, and Tyrion placed a gentle hand on his shoulder as Jon sat back down. "It is also your punishment"

"Punishment?" Jon almost laughed then, running a hand over his face, trying to keep the tears at bay, "A punishment to make me the most powerful man in Westeros?"

"You just said you don't want it" Tyrion said simply, and Jon couldn't help but nod.

"I won't" He said, and Tyrion shook his head.

"This is what has been decided. Sansa suggested it, and the Lords and Ladies of Westeros agreed and chose you, even Bran knew it was right. Greyworm agreed this will be your punishment, King when you do not wish to be. The small folk will accept you better than any else, they know your heritage thanks to Varys, and you have the birthright, which is the most important thing to most" He shrugged then, "Look at me Jon"

Jon lifted his gaze, and he didn't try to wipe the tears this time. He did not want this, less so now than he ever had before. He had murdered his Queen, regardless of his reasons he had. It was wrong to then put him in the place she had sat. It was wrong, he was not the man for it, not the right man, he couldn't be.

"I killed her Tyrion" Jon said, a sob breaking through then, "I killed her"

"_We_ did" Tyrion said with a small shake of his head.

"Jon, you are an honorable man" Jon did laugh then but Tyrion continued, "You did this, killed the woman you loved, you did so because you had to, because she would have reigned a constant war, you know that" Tyrion looked regretful himself then as he carried on, "You are a war hero, a good man, a kind man who had to make a horrible, horrible choice, who chose right, no matter how wrong it felt" Again Tyrion placed a hand on his shoulder, "You'll make a good King, the first good King we've had in a long, long while. You'll rule justly and fairly, you'll never allow hurt or pain to dominate your rule. You'll re-establish the Targaryen dynasty, you were born for this Jon, and raised for it too"

"Tyrion I…"

"The people need a story, that is what they respond to best, and who has a better story? Raised as a bastard when you should have been a Prince. Lord Commander of the Nights Watch, resurrected by whatever Gods are out there. You fought against the White Walkers, rallied the North to stop the war of the dead. You took back Winterfell" Tyrion paused then, but pushed on, "And you stopped the woman who would kill millions in her twisted vision, who had already killed thousands of innocents. The people will love you for that, even if you hate yourself for it. You have the best story, the birthright, it must be you. You may not want it, but the people need it, we need it, and I think in a way, you need it too"

Jon didn't speak for a moment. He had been true when he had said he didn't want this, and he couldn't stand the thought of rising up the steps he had killed the woman he loved on, but a glimmer of him spoke to some sense. This was his penance, for stopping her, even if it had been right. He could rule, he could rule fairly, justly, he could ensure the people were safe, happy and well. He didn't want it, but Tyrion had said the people needed it and that perhaps he did too. He didn't want it, but this wasn't about wants, not this time, it was about needs.

He didn't know if he'd be a good King, but what choice did he have? This was not only his punishment, but he knew deep, deep down, this was what he had to do. Another horrible decision to make, and yet the previous one had been right … perhaps this would be too, he hoped it would be.

He couldn't picture it, ruling over the country when he had killed his Queen to get there, when he had murdered her. It didn't matter his reasons; she was gone because of him, she was dead because of him. How could he rule after that?

"You can do this Jon" Tyrion spoke as though reading his mind.

Jon didn't know what to say. He didn't want to, and yet he knew … he knew he had to. Hadn't that been his life? Doing things he had to even though he didn't wish to? Killing Qhorin Halfhand, betraying Ygritte, turning down Stannis's offer, killing Olly, taking the place as King in the North, going south to Dragonstone, bending the knee for peace and allies, killing his Queen to bring peace. Fighting and fighting, constant fighting though he hated it. He was good at it, but he had never liked it, had always hated battle and fighting, no matter how he thrived at it. Constant fighting … what had Ser Allistair said?

'_But you Lord Snow, you'll be fighting their battles forever'_

Perhaps that was his destiny, his lot in life, to fight and fight, to do what must be done when no others wanted to, to do what had to be done even if he didn't want to. It felt like it, and with that thought, even as doubts raced through his mind, even as he felt ready to break down in tears once more, he simply nodded, and at Tyrions sigh of relief he felt a little better, just a little.

"Come on then" Tyrion spoke and with a nod Jon stood to his feet, and followed him out. He was handed Longclaw as they emerged, and he gave a nod of thanks to the Northern soldier who dipped his head to him.

"The Unsullied" He asked simply, and Tyrion looked at him with a smile.

"Gone. They've sailed to Essos once more, to liberate slave cities" Jon nodded at that, they would continue Danys vision to break all chains … now that she could not, thanks to him.

"So you're my hand?" Jon asked, and it felt wrong to say, to accept so quickly, and yet what else could he do? He had accepted it, even if he didn't want to. This was his life now, doing things he didn't want to do, because it was right, because it was his duty. _Duty was the death of love_, he knew that, he had followed that, and he would continue to do his duty. He had to.

"Yes, hopefully you'll keep me" Tyrion smiled then as he looked up at him, "Bran figured that could be my punishment too, correcting mistakes after I've made so many" The dwarf looked bitter for a moment, but shook his head before smiling again. Jon nodded at that, and followed him through the halls, though he didn't know where they were going, he followed.

"Repairs of the Red Keep are underway, we started with the throne room, that is where your coronation will be held, on the morning" Jon looked down at him then, in both surprise and horror and once again the dwarf shrugged, "Necessary I'm afraid, you'll be hailed as Jon Targaryen, of Houses Stark and Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals and the First Men, and all of the rest. Necessary"

"There is no throne now" He said simply, for he didn't even want to think about how quickly this would happen, how so soon he'd be King, it felt like a dream … or perhaps a nightmare, it certainly felt more like the latter.

"There is" Tyrion said simply, "Not the one of your ancestors, nor forged in dragon fire, but there is a throne, made of swords, a bit bigger than the one before, smiths have been working on it for weeks, and it'll be finished for tomorrow, I've been assured of that"

"Wonderful" Jon said dryly, and they came to a stop then, on one of the highest levels, he could see the repair work going on, though he tried to ignore as each of the worker bowed their heads to him as he passed.

"This is the King's quarters, you should sleep, and then prepare yourself for tomorrow" Jon could only nod then, he'd made his decision, against his better judgement, and against what he wished, but he had made it. "There is also some people who wish to see you" Again Jon could only nod, for what else was there to be said? Tyrion bowed his head, spoke the words '_Your Grace'_ before departing, and Jon stepped inside his room, such a title ringing in his head, it sounded wrong.

He barely made it past the threshold before he felt a thud against him, and he let out a small groan. He realized who was in his arms as he saw the shock of red hair and he smiled, pulling her closer then, holding her for a moment. Next came Arya, tugging him close as tears trickled down her cheeks, to which he wiped them away. Bran followed, and he leaned down to hug his brother close, his brother who was smiling for once, which Jon mirrored for a moment.

"I missed you all" He said simply, and for just a moment they all smiled, they all smiled, and it felt _normal_. It didn't feel like they'd been through so much. For a moment Bran wasn't a crippled boy who was now the Three Eyed Raven, he wasn't emotionless and detached, he was just their little brother. For a moment Arya wasn't a killer, she wasn't one of the faceless men, she wasn't the girl who'd killed the Night King, for a moment she was just their little sister, with a cheeky grin. For a moment Sansa wasn't a cunning and somewhat ruthless ruler, she wasn't the woman grown who knew hardship and pain but had come out with more strength than most, she was just Sansa, smiling at him. For a moment he wasn't a resurrected Prince, now King, he wasn't a man who'd killed his Queen, he was just Jon, smiling at his siblings … cousins, but always siblings to him.

"You're the King now" Bran said with a nod, and Jon nodded back.

"Aye, I am apparently" He glanced at Sansa then who blushed a little, though he smiled at her; he knew why she had suggested it, and he could never fault why she had. She had seen horrific Kings in her time, he could understand why she had led the charge to put him there, even if he was horrific in his own way, at least in his own eyes. "I never wanted it, but it is my duty" He said with a nod, "A duty I will take"

"Your coronation is tomorrow" Sansa said with a smile, easily relieved he hadn't been annoyed with her for practically putting him in this position, "We'll all be there"

"Aye" He said with a smile, "And hopefully you'll all stay, I could use some help" And he could, the Stark's were reunited now, he couldn't stand the thought of them scattering once more.

"I'll be here. Tyrion named me Master of Whispers, with your approval" Bran spoke, and Jon nodded, both wanting his little brother close, and well aware there was literally no one better for the role.

"I'll be at Storms End" Arya said with no further word on why, though he could guess as Sansa nudged her with a laugh and Arya attempted a glare that failed. "So not far, a day or two on a ship if you ever need me"

"I was going to go North" Sansa said, and he turned to her with a frown, but she shook her head and smiled, "But _the lone wolf dies, and the pack survives_. I'll be here, as long as you need me Jon. I can govern Winterfell from here, and I'll put a regent in place" He smiled then, and she smiled back.

"We stick together, _always_" Jon said, and he found himself smiling as they all nodded. Perhaps there was some hope after all.

* * *

On the next morning snow was falling from the sky. The White Walkers may have been gone but winter was still here, and it was travelling further South with each passing day. It was white, leaving blankets on the floor that covered the ash, a relief to all. He spent an hour looking out the window of his room, and he was surprised at how much had been done in three weeks. There was still much to do, but the bodies had been cleared, repairs were starting city wide, and the Red Keep was fast being fixed back up. Even from his window he could see tens of workers putting together a new Tower of the Hand, whilst he stood in the Tower of Kings, which had been undamaged.

This was his home now, this was the seat of his rule. He still hated the sound of that, but just one night of being with his family, whom had promised to stand by his side, who believed in him … that had made him feel better. He still hated what he had done, and would always hate himself a little for what he had been forced to do, but now at least he could see a world outside such pain. He didn't want to be King, but it was the right thing to do, the right thing for not only his family or his people, but himself. He could see that, and hadn't he always strived to do the right thing?

The morning went slowly, and then far too fast as the coronation approached. He bathed, he dressed, in black leathers and the Stark cloak Sansa had stitched for him. He pulled his hair back again, having cut it himself the night before back into a ponytail. He strapped Longclaw to his waist, and he stopped in front of the mirror. He was hardly the picture of a King, and yet perhaps that was a good thing, perhaps it was time Kings didn't sit so high above the others, perhaps it was time Kings understood the small folk more.

A knock on his door told him it was almost time, and he had to take a deep breath to answer it. Even with his families promises to stay with him, even with a nights perspective to set some stuff right, it still felt wrong, and he was sure it would for a long time.

"Come in" He said, and he watched Tyrion step inside with a small smile. "I'm ready, let us get this over with"

"Not quite" Tyrion said with a shake of his head before stepping aside, and then Jon did smile, a large smile, as his ever faithful companion, his best friend barreled inside, and he quickly dropped to his knees to greet him.

"Ghost" He said with a smile he was sure would split his face. He had missed him from the moment he'd sent him away, and regretted it each moment too. To have him back … it was better than anything he could have hoped for, and he turned to Tyrion with a grin then, a true smile, his first cheek splitting smile in months. "How?"

"The rest of the Starks felt it important you have him with you" Tyrion said with a shrug, "Bran arranged a raven, and he was sent down. Your name may be Targaryen now, as it has to be, but you are a Stark, this will remind people of that"

Jon could only nod, "Thank you" Before he pulled Ghost close, ruffling his remaining ear, met with a happy smack of his tail and a nudge from his companion as he did so. "I missed you boy" He said with a smile before he stood back up and Ghost fell into place at his side. It felt natural, it felt right, and Jon was beyond thankful.

"Is it time?" Jon said and Tyrion only nodded, as they both left his chambers and made their way to the throne room, Ghost at his side, a reassuring presence. Tyrion reassured him too, if he'd had his choice of hand, he'd have picked Tyrion too.

"Is it all repaired?" Jon asked, as they made their way through the corridors, workers still quickly patching things up and putting everything back together. "The throne room?"

"Yes your Grace" Tyrion said, "Everything is in place and ready"

"Please don't call me that" Tyrion laughed at that and Jon shook his head, though he was serious. They reached the doors to the throne room then, the walk had taken no time at all. The outside was devoid of people, and Tyrion stopped him, before turning around to face him.

"I'll go in first, and then once I reach the end and take my place at your left, you'll follow, walk down through the middle, and then onto the steps" Tyrion explained, "You'll be crowned with a new crown, but it is a replica of Aegon the Conqueror's" At his grimace Tyrion laughed, "You forgot, the people require these kinds of things. You'll be named a Targaryen and then crowned as the King, the people will bow" Tyrion waved a hand then.

"What faith will crown me?" Jon asked.

"You follow the Old Gods, but we have the Seven of the South, and the Red God who brought you back. We managed to wrangle an agreement that you'll receive a blessing from all three. Bran will represent the Old Gods, a new High Septon has been chosen, a man of good learning who will represent the Seven, and a woman named Kinvara, who has promised to serve you as she did the Queen before you, will bless you with R'hllor"

"Aye alright" Jon felt like there was not much more to say, and Tyrion agreed, the throne room doors opened and his Hand walked inside. Jon took a moment then, just a moment for himself before he followed.

This was his duty now, this was what he _must_ do, this was his future. There was some light at the end of the tunnel. The wars were over, peace was found, and the bloodshed could stop. He had his family, the pack of wolves close by and with him. He was King, which he did not, and was sure would never want, but it would give him purpose again, and allow him to serve the people who deserved a ruler who would serve them. There was a light at the end of all the pain, as dim as it may be. He paused as he looked across the throne room. The blood had been scrubbed from the spot he had killed her on, or the floor had been replaced, and the new throne was larger, and looked different, the swords more clearly defined than they had been before, and there were higher steps now to sit atop it. He wanted to run for a moment, for it still felt wrong to ascend those steps when he had stopped her from doing so. But no, this was his duty.

He would do his duty, and so he stepped inside.

* * *

The walk felt long, too long, but he knew it was necessary. Seeing the friendly faces helped.

He could see Tyrion stood to the left of the Throne, smiling, proud. Sansa stood to his right, followed by Arya and Bran. Next to Tyrion stood Davos, and then Sam. Brienne and Podrick stood behind the Throne, decked in gold, the two first members of his Kinsguard, he would choose the rest later. Ghost stood by Jon's side. In the crowd he could see the Lords and Ladies, bannermen who had survived the wars were smiling as well. Everyone was happy to see him be King, everyone wanted to be here … except for him.

This was his duty. He thought perhaps he'd find some joy in it in a few years, when he had settled in, when the pain of the wars and the choices he'd made had dulled. Maybe he'd find happiness in seeing the small folk do well, in fixing the Kingdoms that had been broken for so long. He hoped he could, he hoped he would find some happiness, even if he didn't deserve it. It was selfish, but every man wished for happiness, he did too, he could not help it.

He reached the top, and climbed the steps in front of the throne, and he felt his hands shake a little as Ghost followed by his side, his loyal beast nudging Sansa who smiled as Ghost took his place beside her, directly to the right of the throne. Having Ghost with him felt vital now, his wolf South with him, he didn't feel so out of place with the symbol of the Stark's next to him.

He knew he had to be named a Targaryen to become King, to shed the name Snow for Targaryen, not Stark as he had always wished. He could see the three headed dragon in the glass above the throne, and the banners of the Targaryens now hung on the Red Keep. It felt insulting to Dany almost, but part of him hoped she would find some peace … wherever her soul was now, in that a Targaryen dynasty had been restored, even if Jon had been forced to spill her blood in the process of it being so. He didn't feel like a Targaryen, and yet he knew he could never ascend the steps as a Stark. A large part of the acceptance came from him being the rightful heir by blood and name, he would take the Targaryen name, but he would never let people forget he was a Stark too.

He took his place in front of the new Throne, placed his hand on Longclaw for comfort, and waited.

The Northern blessing was first, and Podrick wheeled Bran forward. His brother was brief as he spoke.

"King Jon is blessed by the Old Gods, as a boy he was raised in Winterfell, and he is of the First Men. The Old Gods bless him, and always will, wherever a Weirwood lies, they will watch over him"

It was simple, brief, as all the blessings would be according to Tyrion; to ensure no one religion was favored.

The High Septon stepped up next.

"King Jon is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen, a devout man of the Seven in his time. May the Seven watch over him and bless him in the South, may the Warrior give him courage, may the Father guide him, may the Smith give him strength. He is blessed"

Next came Kinvara. Apparently she had arrived a week earlier in Kings Landing, had been sworn to Daenerys but now swore herself to Jon, as the Prince that was Promised. Jon didn't know if he believed that, but he had been resurrected by Melissandra, he would never dismiss the Red God out of hand, how could he when he was only walking because of the Lord of Light?

"King Jon was resurrected by the Lord of Light, brought back into the world to rule over Westeros, to achieve his destiny. He is blessed by the Lord himself, and always shall be. For the night is dark and full of terrors, but King Jon stopped those terrors, more than once"

And so the blessings were finished, and it was Sansa who stepped forward with the crown in her hands, smiling through and through. He knew she wanted this for him more than he did, but he smiled back at her, as she stepped forward to hand the crown to Sam, now in his robes as Grand Maester. The citadel and Maesters were the most respected institution in Westeros, and so they had chosen Sam to crown him, it made sense.

Sam spoke loud, though his voice shook as he started, as Jon kneeled in front of the Throne, and closed his eyes for a moment before Sam began to speak.

"In the sight of the Old Gods, the Seven and R'hllor. In the eyes of gods and men, of lords, ladies, the small and freefolk. In sight of all who he shall rule with a just hand and a fair mind. We crown, Jon Targaryen, first of his name, of Houses Targaryen and Stark, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, cursed be he who would tear him asunder"

He felt the weight of the crown before it was placed, and he closed his eyes as the cold metal was slipped across his head. He took a deep breath, as he heard the crowd call.

"Long may he reign"

He did not look up for a moment, not as cheers and applause broke out, not as he forced himself to his feet, and he heard his families calls among the crowd. He did not open his eyes for a moment. He took several moments, eyes closed. But when he did open them, and looked across at the crowd cheering, his family grinning, his friends calling out to him, he felt like a _King_.

And for the first time since he'd heard of his heritage, for the first time since he'd realized he was heir to the iron throne, for the first time since he'd plunged a dagger into the heart of his Queen, for the first time since Tyrion had told him he was King ... for the first time it felt _right_.

And he smiled, the crown atop his head glittering in the morning lights that broke through the stained glass windows, as the crowd cheered on, cheered for their King.

* * *

woop! so yeah, that is my take on an alternate ending with jon as king. as I said in the authors note, I get jons ending made sense, he was clearly king beyond the wall, and it was what he wanted, but it didn't feel totally right. he should have been king, and in my version he is :x

I hope you enjoyed this little piece. I originally planned it as a stand alone one shot, but I'm not sure now. I have two other jon-centric fics, and both involve time travel/going back to the start. part of me wants to continue this piece with jon as king post show/post books. what do you guys think? should I carry on? it wouldn't be a long fic, almost an epilogue to the end of the show? tho of course I'd throw some spice in their. let me know if you'd like to see more.

as always please fav/review (follow if you wanna see more of this fic?). check out my other asoiaf fics. I did wanna address this is more got than asoiaf, but if I carry it on it will have book only elements, so I wanted to class it properly.

anyways, I hope you enjoyed it, and again let me know if you'd like me to continue. thanks, and see you soon.


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